


(saying that I want more) this is what I live for

by Pinkmanite



Series: hold me down [3]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Abuse of Power, Age Difference, D/s elements, Dirty Talk, Exactly What It Says on the Tin, Infidelity, M/M, Manipulation, Off Screen Kink Negotiations, Power Imbalance, Power Play, Rough Sex, Unhealthy Relationships, demeaning language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-08-29 22:43:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16752850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pinkmanite/pseuds/Pinkmanite
Summary: "Why should I keep you, huh?""Because I'm the best thing you've ever had,” Will bites back, “asshole.”





	(saying that I want more) this is what I live for

**Author's Note:**

> Technically you can read this on its own and it'll make sense, but there's a few small things that are referenced from the previous parts.
> 
> Also, please heed the warnings. There is a lot of dubious consent / consent play but it's discussed and consensual between both parties.

 

Really, both of them know better, _should_ know better.

Like Kyle said, it's a lot more serious now. They shouldn't be mixing work life and personal life. It's dumb, so dumb, and terribly dangerous. Where's the common sense?

There isn't any when it's Kyle and Will. Never any.

Will knows he could probably call the stop on this, because as much history as he and Kyle have between the two of them, Kyle's never truly been the one in charge here. Even despite how much he thinks he is.

But Will knows.

So he plays along, because it's certainly not a secret that he enjoys this just as much as Kyle does — if not even more. He indulges himself, even if it seems like he's just indulging Kyle.

This is a two-player game, and it's clear from their success that no one is half-assing anything here. After all, they're competitive people, he and Kyle. It's all in to win, or nothing at all.

Will likes to win.

Which makes it a little difficult, because Kyle's stubborn and refuses to lose. He's too proud to give in, for one. He doesn't want their game to stop, for the other. And to be fair, Will's not sure that he'd want to stop either.

There has to be an end, eventually. Preseason starts soon and it’s becoming more and more apparent that they’re running out of time. It has to come to a head before it truly fucks with work, fucks with business, fucks with _hockey_ , but until then...

Until then, they'll likely draw it out as long as they possibly can. They're greedy like that, sometimes. Most of the time. Actually, always. They're selfish, the both of them each, and it really should be a clash, but instead it propels them even further and further into whatever hole they're already spiraling down and down and down.

It's too late to crawl back up.

They don't have a schedule or anything, and they never plan anything in advance, but maybe that makes it worse that they somehow manage a routine. Will never misses a day, prompt at either Kyle's office or whatever cheap hotel room he's booked for the night. It's too much these days, already long past debased, for either of them to bring this home. It's disgusting, really, what they do, but apparently not enough for Will to stop coming back to it, addicted and unashamed. Not enough for Kyle to deny him.

 

_holiday inn. room 312._

 

It should be embarrassing, how easy Will is for this, how easy he is for Kyle. Four words, nothing else, and Kyle just expects him to show up dutifully, like there's nothing else Will might be doing, like the only thing in his life is Kyle.

Will shows up.

He knocks three times, firm and prompt, just as he always does. And Kyle undoes the locks, opens the door just enough, and tugs him in, just as he always does. Routine.

It wouldn't be _them_ if Kyle were nice. So he isn't.

There’s already a hand in his hair and that guides him to the ground, to his knees, almost immediately. It’s rude, it’s harsh. He doesn't give in easily, but he also doesn't put up much of a fight as he goes down.

“Nice of you to finally show up,” Kyle says, sour.

“Fuck off,” Will says when his knees hit the carpet. “You know why I’m here. Let’s negotiate.”

In a way, it’s Will’s way of pushing this along, of giving Kyle that extra nudge. He likes to do this, likes to egg him on and on until he snaps. It’s perhaps not the smartest tactic, but it does what he intends for it to do.

In fact. "You wanna be on this team, Nylander? Prove you deserve it. Prove to me you deserve to stay." Kyle doesn’t hold back.

Will gives him a dirty look, even as something starts to stir in the pit of his stomach. He turns his face, cheek to Kyle, defiant. Wordless.

Kyle hums disproving, gets impossibly closer. He raises a hand, gently, brushing the back of it against Will's cheek.

And then pulls back in one swift move, just to come right back and slap him, backhanded. It’s louder than it hurts, but it’s still enough that it’s clear Kyle isn’t holding much back. It’s still _hard_.

"Fuck," Will seethes through his teeth, the spot already beginning to redden. It stings, but Will bites his lip, nearly enough to bleed, and doesn't say anything else.

"If you're not going to prove it, you're not staying." Kyle glares down at him. "Do you know how easy it'd be to replace you?"

The words sting just as sharp as his cheek, but it also sends a rush throughout Will's entire being, and he inhales sharp, through his nose, the last of his self-control slipping and slipping.

But Kyle doesn't stop, he grabs a fistful of Will's hair and yanks his head back. "Why should I keep you, huh? What do you think?"

"Because I'm the best thing you've ever had, asshole," Will bites back.

Wrong answer. Kyle slaps him again, the other side this time. Will just grunts, revels in the smarting sting of it.

"You're dispensable, Nylander. You know how many boys I have lined up for your spot?"

But Will grins, cruel. "I know one, and his name's Kasperi—"

"Woah, no," Kyle pulls away from him fast, like he's been burned. He straightens up, and shakes off some of his demeanor with it. "I told you, we're not going to do this if you keep doing that."

Will sighs and rolls his eyes, starts to stand up, the moment lost. "You're boring."

Kyle leans against the dresser, arms crossed over his chest. "I told you, if we're going to do this, we're going to have rules."

"I know," Will says, snappy, "it's dangerous, Will. We're mixing work and business, Will. We have to be sane about this, Will," he mocks. "Why are you so uptight?"

"Someone needs to be the adult here," Kyle retorts, hypocritically petulant.

Will's head is spinning from this bullshit. "Are you for real?"

"Of course I am," Kyle practically shouts. "Someone has to make sure you don't fuck everything up—"

"That _I_ don't fuck everything up? You're the one with the crumbling marriage and a string of used playthings," Will says all at once, seething.

He doesn't mean it, not really, but he loves the way it digs into Kyle's skin and hurts him just the way he wants. He loves how it leaves a bruise, a mark, on Kyle's conscience, something that Will put there himself.

"Okay, I think we're done here." Kyle is flustered, unamused, a contrast to where Will's now perched on the edge of the bed, swinging his legs and grinning like he's won a prize.

"If that's your call," Will shrugs, "then that's your call."

Kyle glares at him, silently fuming. But he doesn't go.

Will waits a minute. Then another. But Kyle still doesn't go.

"Good," Will hums, knowingly. Obnoxiously. "Then let's continue."

Perhaps Kyle does need to be told twice, but perhaps he’s accustomed enough to Will that he knows better than to hesitate.

He takes a breath, rolls his shoulders back into his full height, and then shoves at Will, a little meanly.

“Show me what you’re worth, then.”

Will doesn’t hesitate, either. He falls to his knees.

“Yes, sir.” And it’s back to the charade, big blue eyes that blink up at him innocently, even though they both know exactly what batting those long lashes does for Kyle.

With gentle hands, Will undoes Kyle’s pants.

“Hurry up,” Kyle demands, getting back into it. “You this slow on ice? Because that’s not going to work out.”

Frowning, Will huffs a little but he doesn’t object, the words going straight to his dick in an electrifying pulse. He bites his lip and focuses until he’s got Kyle’s pants and underwear around his thighs, cock sprung free, right in front of him.

Kyle gets a hand on the back of Will’s head, palm spread out over the curve of it, fingers threaded tightly through golden strands. He pushes Will’s head into his crotch, dick smushed against Will’s cheek, crude. He rolls his hips into it, once, twice.

“Fuck,” Will slips, breathy.

“You like that, huh?” Kyle goes with it, grabs his dick and smears its over Will’s lips, his cheeks. He loosely smacks it against Will’s cheek, light enough, but it still makes a wet sound, sharp and lewd. Will groans, eyes screwed shut with the impact.

“Go on,” Kyle tugs at his hair. “Show me what I’m paying for.”

Face flushed and spurred with a new determination, Will focuses on the task at hand. He doesn’t mean to stare down Kyle’s dick, but that’s just what ends up happening. It’s a nice dick, not too much of anything, and the reassurance of that gives Will the extra kick he needs.

It’s easy, familiar, taking Kyle into his mouth. The tip fits well across his tongue, weighty enough to keep him grounded. Will doesn’t need to adjust to it, he knows what to do, knows what he’s doing.

Kyle groans from above him, starts to lose himself, lose his focus, once Will starts to suck, hard, cheeks hallowed. He lets his eyes flutter shut until he can focus solely on this, on driving Kyle crazy and getting him there.

On getting himself there.

Tonguing at the slit, just a flick, a tease, Will feels Kyle grip harder in his hair for a split second. He relaxes it as soon as it comes, but Will know it means he’s on the right track. So he does the sensible thing. He pulls off.

“Worth it?” Will swipes the spit off his lips with the back of his hand. He looks up then, locks eyes with Kyle. “Sir?”

Kyle rubs a thumb over Will’s lips, presses gently along the crease but doesn’t push in. Will hasn’t broken eye contact, doesn’t still. He darts his tongue out, swirls it around the tip of Kyle’s thumb.

He yanks his hand away, then grabs Will by his hair again. “Get on the bed, take off your shirt.”

Scrambling to his feet, Will is quick to obey. “Yes, sir,” he says sweetly, already yanking at the collar of his shirt until it pops free over his head. There’s nothing sexy or seductive in the way he haphazardly tugs it off and throws it on the ground, but Kyle doesn’t take his eyes off of him.

Will sits on the bed, right at the edge, and toes off his shoes and socks while he waits. While Kyle takes him in, shirtless and a little sweaty and flushed all the way down his chest. He chews at his lip again, tips his chin down and blinks at Kyle, silent but impatient.

“Christ,” Kyle swears, something flickering in his eyes. He crosses the room in a second, is on him before Will can even process. He’s pushing him back into the bed, pressing him into the comforter with a knee wedged between Will’s thighs.

It’s easy to relax into it, to let Kyle ravish him like this. He gets lost in the feeling; the feeling of Kyle’s weight on him, the feeling of Kyle’s teeth marking up his chest and his collarbone, where no one else will see. The feeling of Kyle’s hands all over him, never missing a space of skin, of his lips all over him, leaving nothing untouched.

The make out for what seems like forever, and it’s all Kyle, possessive and rough. He kisses him like he means something, nips and pulls at Will’s lips, sucks and sucks and sucks until Will can _feel_ how red and swollen they must be by now.

Kyle keeps a hand at the nape of Will’s neck, fingers strong and pressing hard into the skin beneath. He uses it to push and pull Will where he wants him, to angle him the best way to drive his tongue in his mouth, taking what he wants.

He works his mouth, keeps him so good and well distracted that Will doesn’t even process it when Kyle undoes his pants and pulls them down, doesn’t realize it until Kyle’s got a hand on his dick, kneading at the bulge there.

It’s easy for Kyle to tug Will’s pants all the way off, easy for him to tuck his thumbs under the elastic of Will’s underwear and drag those off, too. They hang from his ankles, Will too overwhelmed in Kyle’s doings to properly shake them off.

By the time Kyle pulls away, Will feels completely marked up, completely _owned_ , and it’s a more than overwhelming when Kyle sits back on his heels, disheveled but still fully dressed, admiring all of his hard work.

“Feels nice to be owned, yeah?” Kyle grins down at him.

It does, but Will hasn’t floated enough to admit it just yet. “You don’t own me,” he says, more matter-of-fact than challenging, “the team does.”

Kyle frowns. “Well,” his voice goes darker, “not yet, and I still have yet to see why we should.” He rolls up his sleeves to his elbows and crosses his arms over his chest. He nods in a vague gesture, nonchalant. “Open yourself up. Lemme see what you’ve got.”

There’s lube on the nightstand, right where Kyle always leaves it whenever they do this. Will flips and crawls up the bed, stretching out until he can reach the bottle and flip it open. It doesn’t take long to spread it over his fingers, to rest his head on the stack of pillows, hold his ass up, and spread his knees. It doesn’t take long to reach back and slip a finger in, diligent and efficient.  

“More,” Kyle demands, voice neutral. “Use another.”

Will half considers protesting — it’s too much too soon, it’s rushed — but that in itself sends a thrill down his spine the thought of pushing his limits, just because Kyle told him to, makes his dick twitch. So Will lines another up and pushes it past the rim, groans helplessly at the stretch.

“Good,” and Kyle’s voice is breathier now, “that’s a good boy, Will.”

As much as Will would like to savor this part, he focuses on trying to relax and open up as quickly as possible. He knows that Kyle can tell the difference, knows what it does for Kyle when he does this.

Will’s scissoring himself open when Kyle makes more demands. “Another one, and then fuck yourself on them.”

“Okay,” Will lets slip in a sigh, but he hears Kyle hum and quickly corrects himself. “I mean, yes, sir.” And he follows through, holding his breath when he squeezes another in, muscles going tight.

He breathes in, breathes out, and gets to work.

It’s rushed, it’s really quite rushed, but it’s not bad, it’s just a lot more at once and incredibly overwhelming. Especially when Will thinks about what it must look like for Kyle, what it must do to Kyle, it’s a lot at once.

“I said—” Kyle starts, but Will cuts him off.

“Sorry, sorry,” Will pulls his fingers out until they’re barely in, the tips just past the rim. “I got it.”

He pushes them back in, punching out a breath when the gets them all the way in, pressed closely together. He does it again, angles it carefully this time. It’s calculated, so he’s expecting it, but the pleasure shoots through him, gets his head fuzzy, and he lets out a gasp he didn’t know he’d been holding back.

“That’s right,” Kyle pushes even more, his voice a lot closer than before. “Fuck yourself just because I told you to.”

“Shit,” Will groans, throaty, but he picks up the pace, drive his fingers in and out and in again over and over, right until his wrist starts to ache and he has to try to readjust.

But then Kyle’s there, grabbing his forearm and pulling it away. He makes Will wipe his hand off on the sheets, makes him tuck his arm up under his head with the other one.

“So good,” he soothes, a contrast, “so obedient.” Kyle runs a hand, gentle, over the curve of Will’s ass, but it’s too good, too sweet to be true. As soon as the warmth leaves the round of his ass, Will knows.

He braces for it, and the sure enough, the slap comes down hard on the meat of his ass, a stinging sharp spank that will surely leave a print come morning. Kyle does it again, the other side, the runs his hands over the smarting marks.

“You bruise so beautifully,” Kyle murmurs, more to himself, “pretty little canvas, just asking to be marked up.”

“Please,” is all Will manages, barely audible.

And even though Will is almost under, just teetering on the edge, Kyle knows better than to let up just yet. “What would you do to be a Toronto Maple Leaf?”

Will swallows, turns onto his back and tries to look Kyle in the eye, as steady as he can. “Anything. Absolutely anything.”

“Yeah?” Kyle leans down, kisses him once, gentler this time but just as firm, just as demanding. “Anything?”

Will nods, “yes, sir.”

Kyle moves to his ear, bites lightly at his earlobe and pulls until it slips from between his teeth. He whispers right at his ear, lips so close he can feel them brush over his skin. “So you’d let me fuck you like a whore if it meant you could stay on this team?”

There’s a beat, one where Will has to compose himself, but he swallows and closes his eyes. It’s quiet and a little choked off, but eventually, “that’s right, sir.”

“Fucking slut,” Kyle scoffs, but he pulls back, rearranging his dick until it’s it’s jutting from the fly of his pants, underwear tucked under his balls and out of the way. He’s still got his clothes most of the way on. They both know it’s going to stay like that.

Will spreads his legs invitingly, makes plenty of room for Kyle to get between them. Kyle starts to knee his way up the bed, claiming his spot. He grabs one of Will’s legs, throws it over his shoulder.

“Lube,” Kyle demands, even holds out his hand. Will is too on edge to get mad about it, so he stretches to reach where he’d left it on the bed, dutifully hands it over.

Kyle flips open the cap and is about to drizzle it over himself, but Will is watching. He speaks up, “condom?”

He freezes, caps the lube again and looks up until he’s facing Will again. “I thought we talked about that?” He hasn’t quite broken character again, but it’s close.

Will gives him a pointed look, heavy with insinuation. “I’m wasn’t going to say it, but I don’t know who—”

“Okay,” Kyle cuts him off before he goes too far. “Okay, okay, I have one, relax.”

Perhaps a little bratty, Will huffs, but he doesn’t care. Kyle deserves it. He waits while Kyle digs around in his pockets, looking for his spare. Will uses the time to close his eyes and focus on going back under. He hasn’t strayed too far off, but the edge is close and he can almost feel it. He doesn’t want to lose it, not now, not after they’ve made it this far.

“There,” Kyle declares, going darker again. He goes for the lube again and coat himself in it, not too much but enough to be practical. “I’m so fucking good to you,” and he’s back, shoulders squared back fully into his role, “always treating you like a fucking princess when you’re really just easy for it, a fucking cockslut.”

Will lets the words wash over him, lets them sink in and fill his head until they flow down to his erection, getting his cock harder and his head floatier. Kyle’s got his dick lined up, teases his cockhead at Will’s rim, smearing lube over it and applying just enough pressure to get Will to open up for him, but not enough to actually go in.

But then Kyle pushes just a little harder, leans over him and kisses him once. “You know what you are,” Kyle says one more time, lips brushing over Will’s, then pushes in, all at once in one long glide.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Will nearly shouts. The stretch is more than he’s used to and the drag of it is a lot more intense, it’s a lot, it’s overwhelming, but yet it still isn’t necessarily bad. It’s kind of nice, to physically feel this, and it sends shiver up his body until it starts to feel good. Until he starts to feel like he’ll have something to remember, something to remind him that he’s _owned_.

He slips further and further, mentally, until he can barely remember himself. Until it’s just a messy string of “please, please, fuck, please” while he takes it, while he lets Kyle fuck him how he wants.

“God, look at you take it,” Kyle groans, slamming up into Will, the flaps of his pants zipper digging into the still-smarting flesh of Will’s ass. “Taking it so good, no wonder you’re such a whore, you fucking love it.”

Will knows it’ll leave another mark, the zipper, the rub of Kyle’s pants over his bare skin, but he craves it, goes hot red when he thinks about it, the image of it. Kyle fucking into him fully dressed, like he’s another chore, while Will’s completely bare for him.

It’s the last kick he needs to go under, and god does he float.

He’s not sure what he says, isn’t sure what he’s even capable of saying, but he feels Kyle start to go frantic with his thrusts, feels Kyle get a hand on him, pumping him hard and dry and careless, but exactly what he needs.

Will comes like that, Kyle still driving hard into him, pressing him into the mattress and whispering dirty things about who exactly he belongs to.

He melts into it and lets Kyle handle the rest.

 

~

 

Eventually, Will gets up first and Kyle lets him.

He hears the shower go, then hears the hair dryer for a bit. Kyle knows he should probably get up, too. Should probably turn on the lights and start collecting his clothes. The night’s still pretty young and the room is booked until morning, but they’ve done this enough times for Kyle to know how this plays out.

He doesn’t make any progress out of bed, is still sex-exhausted and tangled up in the sheets, by the time Will re-emerges from the bathroom. His hair is back to its typical styling, fresh, and he’s sporting a fluffy white towel wrapped loosely around his hips.

There’s a trail of hickeys, mostly red but just starting to darken, dotted across his chest. Kyle can’t help but feel just a little smug.

Will catches him staring and looks down. He frowns.

“Really, dude?” Will plops back onto his side of the bed, but he’s still sitting up against the headboard, now preoccupied with flicking his phone unlocked.

Kyles hums, then, muffled and half-hearted, “sorry.”

Will rolls his eyes, kicks at him a little. “You’re an asshole.”

“So are you,” Kyle bites back, doesn’t miss a beat. “That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?”

Will shrugs, makes a noise that could be affirmative.

It’s silent for a moment, while Will continues to catch up on his messages and Kyle tries to lounge around as long as possible. But it can’t last forever, and Kyle, of all people, knows that.

He starts to kick off the sheets, sits up. But then he looks at Will, who eventually looks up and blinks right back. Maybe not quite curious but, relaxed, perhaps. Kyle pauses, then sighs.

“You _are_ going to sign, right? Like we’re just messing around at this point?”

Will starts to give him a look, starts to open his mouth, but Kyle runs one hand over his face and through his hair, raises the other to silence him, to interrupt him.

“I’m just trying to make sure we’re on the same page, don’t get all defensive on me.”

Mouth in a thin line, Will absently puts his phone on the side table, face-down, folds his arms over his chest. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know,” Kyle huffs, then finally stands up to start looking for his clothes. He finds Will’s shirt first and unceremoniously tosses it at him. “Like you’re not just fucking with my head so you can go sign big money somewhere else?”

Immediately Will makes a face. “Really?”

“Is it that far-fetched?”

Annoyed, Will tugs his shirt back over his head and gets up to find the rest of his clothes, deliberately getting in Kyle’s way, just to fuck with him. Because it’s easy, because he can.

“I’m staying in Toronto, man. You should know that by now.”

Kyle finds his own shirt and starts to shrug it on, starts to do up the buttons. “Okay, that’s all I wanted to know.”

Will shoots him a look, then low, mean, “What? You ready to call it quits on this? Chickening out?”

But Kyle is unphased, doesn’t even spare a glance, too focused on doing his tie. “No. Are you?”

“Absolutely not.” Will finally manages to find his pants, shimmies those back on. He grabs his phone, ready to go.

Kyle looks up then, doesn’t even try to hide it when he checks Will out, top to bottom, one last time for the night. “Fine, then. We’ll continue.”

Will laughs, but it isn’t quite cheerful, not the same note of bright. “You know how to reach me.” He grins at Kyle once more, shiteating, and then is out the door before the moment fully registers.

Kyle sighs, stares at the back of the door.

He’s really something, that William Nylander.

  


* * *

 

“I want to try something new,” Will says, not too long after they start things up again. It’s been less than a month since Kyle’s promotion to GM, even less since Will cornered him in his office. The summer is still young and it’s been no time at all, but yet they’ve already fallen into somewhat of a routine, whether Kyle would like to admit to it or not.

Which, is probably a shit idea, considering a lot of things. But mostly — selfishly — because Will is flying to Stockholm soon. Temporarily, of course, but it means their routine is a tease, one that Will probably planned for, and one that Kyle had easily fallen for.

It’s almost embarrassing.

But it’s Will, Will and Kyle, so it’s not. It’s normal. Not embarrassing, just normal.  

Which brings us back to Will.

He’s acting kind of strange, and Kyle can’t quite put his finger on it, not at first. But then he notices the pink of his cheeks and it clicks; Will’s embarrassed.

It’s so unlike him, so unusual for him, that Kyle can’t help but burst out laughing, as hard as he really does try to keep it in.

“Hey,” Will protests, just a little quiet, a little unsure. But then he takes a breath, shuts his eyes, and when he reopens them, it’s like he’s blinked all of that away. His face is still a ruddy red but he’s so sure-set, his usual air of commanding re-surrounding him.

“I want to try something,” he repeats, harder this time.

Kyle hums, thoughtfully. “Sure?”

“I want to do a thing,” Will stops, then starts again. “I want you to pretend not to sign me.”

“Uh,” Kyle doesn’t know what exactly he was expecting, but it wasn’t quite that. “You want me to pretend not to sign you.”

“Yeah,” Will says, steadier now, gaining traction. “Like, I want you to say you won’t sign me unless I suck you dick, or whatever,” he expands, waving his hands around as he explains.

Kyle blinks. “Look, it’s not that I don’t want to—”

“Oh, come on,” Will interrupts. “I know you’re into it.”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t,” Kyle huffs, “but as I was saying, I don’t think we should be playing around with work. It’s not—”

“It’s just pretend, Kyle,” Will interrupts him again. “Besides, it’s not even like real life at all. My agent handles that. Not me. You know that.”

He’s quiet for a moment, really considers it. But then he shakes his head. “We have to draw the line somewhere, we can’t.”

But Will is ready, Will is prepared. “But it’d be hot, you know it would. Imagine putting me on my knees, putting me in my place,” he pauses, licks his lips, calculated. “Tell me I have to earn my place on this roster. Make me prove I’m worth it.”

And whatever Will is doing seems to work, because Kyle shifts uncomfortably, swallows around nothing.

Will runs a hand through his hair, deliberate. He leans a little to his left, cocks his head just the right way. Everything is carefully thought out, a premeditated move in their little game.

_Check._

Kyle looks at him, really looks at him. Will blinks back, as innocently as he can manage, because he really isn’t trying to hide anything here, and also because he knows Kyle likes that.

That seems to do it, because Kyle breaks eye contact, looks him up and down. It’s slow, like he’s never checked Will out before. It’s a study, even if brief, to weigh out whether or not the risk is worth it.

Will already knows that he’s worth it.

Kyle meets his eyes again, makes a face. But then he looks away, and that’s when Will knows he’s got him.

“Fine. But just once.”

“Okay,” Will says, easy and light. He knows it won’t be just once, no matter how hard Kyle tries to lie to himself.

Kyle coughs.

_Checkmate._

  
  
  
  


…

_(tbc.)_

  
  
  
  
  
****

**Author's Note:**

> WILLY SIGNED AND HE'S COMING HOME. So that means part three!!! Finally!!!
> 
> Okay so I actually started writing this before I wrote any other of my Kyle/Willy fics, like this was the goal. I've actually had it finished since August, but I'm a superstitious fuck and given the 'contract signing play' themes, I refused to post it before anything was signed ^^; It's been drafted and re-drafted multiple times, but it's here!!!
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed, I'd love to hear your thoughts!!
> 
> (find me on twitter @[pinkmanite](http://www.twitter.com/pinkmanite))


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